Kilts and Shamrocks
by IheartPadalecki
Summary: When Dean tried to crack a joke, he’d be met with a blank stare. When Sam tried to bring up something else, Dean would redirect the conversation to the hunt. It was all they did, and it was starting to take its toll.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N **Let me just start off by saying, today was not a good day. And this is the result of that. Bad story and angry characters. I love them, I love them, and I love them. But they are mad at each other right now, and if you can't deal with that, don't read it. They will however get over it, because I love them together. I would love to thank StealerOfDreams because she is the best and I love her for beta-ing, I actually really do. I hope you like it, and remember reviews feed the soul. Oh btw, this is the sequel to Old Man Serra, but it's not important to read that one but you can if you like, and you can review on it too!

**Disclaimer**: If I owned them, I wouldn't write this, I'd spend every minute with them.

**Warning: **I guess slight spoilers for the season finale, but they are slight. I'm sure language will come up somewhere in here too.

**Summary:** When Dean tried to crack a joke, he'd be met with a blank stare. When Sam tried to bring up something else, Dean would redirect the conversation to the hunt. It was all they did, and it was starting to take its toll.

**More A/N:** I love Sammy, and I don't mean to sound horrible to him or Dean. I'm not blaming either, so sorry if my writing comes that way. It's just when you're mad at someone, things are difficult. You say things you don't mean, and you think things you don't really think. But try to stick with it, because I promise it's not going to be so bad in the end. Oh and btw, I love country music, especially Brad Paisley.

It was cold, and Dean wished he could be any place but here. He pulled his jacket tighter and turned the heat up. He glanced at Sam sleeping in the passenger seat, and silently cursed him for always picking the worst places to go. Dean glances outside the window, only to see rain falling. He hates this time of year; it was the only time he and Sam weren't allowed outside to play when they were little. During the summer it was warm, and they ran around outside, and swam in whatever lake Dad managed to find. During the winter, they had snow ball fights in the snow banks right outside the motel room. But during the cold month of November, they sat inside watching the rain pour. Although now Sam and he barely ran around in the summer or have snow ball fights anymore, he still holds that grudge towards the month. Although Dean still didn't like rain, he felt like it restricted him from doing so much.

"Dean?" the voice snapped Dean back in reality. It was soft, but tense. "Where are we?"

"We're almost there Sam," Dean scoffed. He had been driving most of yesterday and tonight. Sam had offered to drive, but Dean knew he was tired. "It's like two more hours or something. But I'm thinking we should stop and get some grub, what do you think?"

"Sure, where are we?" Sam asked again as he sat up, a little more awake now.

"Reedsport, Oregon" Dean responded with a smirk. They were headed to Tillamook, some hours away for some ghost sighting apparently. Dean had laughed when Sam suggested it, because usually, people wouldn't know it was a spirit if it came and started a conversation with them. Dean pulled over at a little café along the side of the road. It was a small café, but it worked. Dean stepped out of the car and stretched his legs. He waited for a minute before Sam shut the car door, and then headed towards the entrance.

Dean walked in casually, and spotted a booth in the back. He made his way towards it, and slowly slid into one of the seats. Sam followed suit, and slid into the seat opposite Dean. He picked up a discard newspaper that was left on the table from earlier, and skimmed it. He was looking for anything that might interest him during these boring days they'd been having lately. Dean smirked when he saw Sam reading a newspaper, and retreated to looking at the menu that was propped against the window.

"Hey Sam?" Sam looked up from his newspaper to acknowledge he was listening. "I'm in a bit of a predicament."

"What's that?" Sam asked casually, not really sure he wanted to know.

"I'm a little stuck between the bacon and eggs, and the sausage and eggs." Sam shook his head, knowing it would be something ridiculous like that, and went back to reading his news paper. "No Sam, I'm serious, help me out here."

Dean never missed a meal. If there was one thing Dean enjoyed, it was eating. Food was like an oasis for Dean; he rarely slept because Sam was always waking him up screaming like a girl from some nightmare or the other. And the rest of the time, all he did was eat, think, and breathe hunting. Before Sam could answer, a young man came up to ask for their order.

"Let's see," Dean started, eyes skimming the menu over a few times. He closed the menu and looked at Sam while he talked. "I'll have some coffee and the sausage and eggs."

"I'll have a coffee and just a piece of toast," Sam followed. Dean raised his eyebrow at Sam, but Sam didn't see it; he went back to reading the newspaper. It had been a while since Sam had actually had a decent meal, and Dean was careful to take note. Part of him wanted to push Sam into eating more, because yes he was worried; but the other part of him didn't want to say anything, because he didn't want Sam to know he was worried. If Sam knew, they'd start another argument about something or the other, and maybe not even address food.

Lately it had been tough; all they'd been doing was arguing. Things had become tense between them, only talking about the hunt and what to do next. They rarely talked about Dad, or joked anymore. When Dean tried to crack a joke, he'd be met with a blank stare. When Sam tried to bring up something else, Dean would redirect the conversation to the hunt. It was all they did, and it was starting to take its toll.

By now, Sam had become accustomed to the hunting life style again. He was still bent on going back to school eventually, and maybe hitting up law school for real this time. But for right now he accepted that he was needed else where, he put his dreams on hold and dragged himself along in this life the Winchester's called theirs.

Dean was hitting his point. They'd found Dad some months ago in Chicago, but they barely heard from him since. They had started off on the east coast, hoping to avoid any states that brought back ugly memories, but had ended up in Carmel, California for the most boring hunt, Dean claimed, ever. James Hilf was just not an interesting boy, and definitely needed to see a therapist. And maybe if he had, Dean would be saved from the boring life of Carmel. Then there had been all that drama with the demon, which failed to make any improvement, except to use all the bullets in the colt except for the last one. It had been about six months since all that happened, and after Dad had disappeared from the hospital again with the colt, the boys had resumed hunting without him. And here they were, one state away from the last hunt before the demon business, and Dean was bored as hell.

Dean's thrills came from hunting the exciting stuff, you know the stuff where your heart rate speeds up and you're running on pure adrenaline. He couldn't stand all this research crap, and all he wanted to do was jump right in and find some action. Dean was more of a 'shoot first ask later' guy, and he intended to do just that.

The silence was finally broken when the food came, and Dean rubbed his hands together with excitement. Sam glanced up and plastered on his face on of _those_ grins. But it wasn't the same grin that either one would have in a playful situation, no it was one of those forced, well if we're stuck together might as well pretend we like each other grins. Dean didn't acknowledge Sam, and just started eating. He stuffed his mouth full of whatever food was on his plate, and Sam briefly wondered why Dean bothered picking what to eat when he ate so fast he probably couldn't even tell the difference.

Sam picked up his piece of toast and nibbled at it, slowly eating it and still reading away. Dean paused for just a minute, just to show his disgust at the way Sam ate, and Sam almost wanted to grab a mirror and show Dean what he looked like. But neither brother spoke, just ate in silence. Dean wondered where it all went wrong. Was it finding Dad and then losing him again that brought this tear between them? Or maybe it was being so close, and then losing this demon again. Or maybe, it was hearing the words the demon had to say. Dean would admit that it hurt; it hurt that Sam never called from college to check in, or even tell him about Jessica. Especially now that he knew Sam wanted to _marry_ her, and just thinking about it made him want to hurl.

Sam was mad at Dean, but more so, he was mad at himself. How Dean be so selfish, how could he always want Sam and Dad to be around for him? Why would he guilt trip Sam into staying? Part of Sam believed all this was part of Dean's plan, but each boy knew that this was all a fragment of their anger, of their disappointment. The thing they found was, it's easiest to blame the person you're closest to, because they'll always come back. Dean knew that Sam didn't think he could call home, Dad had in fact told him never to come back. Sam knew that all Dean ever cared about was him and Dad, and that Dean never forced him to stay, just asked.

But in all of the confusing and desperate times for anything to grasp that was good news, they broke down on the only thing they had left, and that was each other. They had been lucky, knowing Bobby and all. The Impala was wrecked, completely and utterly gone, but Bobby had promised to try his best to get it back to perfection. And while they waited, they borrowed one of Bobby's old pick up trucks. Dean hated the car more than anything, and every time he saw it or drove it, he was reminded of what he was being deprived of. Bobby had said it would be a few months, and a few months later he extended it to a "well the car's really fucked up, but I'll call you when it's close." That had been a month ago, and that was the last they'd heard. Dean almost gave up on it, but he couldn't. It was _his_ beloved car, and right now, it was the only thing that would make him sane again.

Dean considered himself lucky; almost nobody would even try on a totaled car, but Dean wouldn't give up on the Impala because she had never given up on him. So here he was, Reedsport, Oregon, with a rusty old pick up truck and a grumpy brother who barely talked. And apparently he was lucky, the doctors had told him that after the crash, and Dean smirked at how ironic that sounded. And then there were the cassette tapes, all his beautiful music that will never be found again. Dean would have to search far and wide to replace his collection again.

"Dean," Sam brought Dean back to the present again. He seemed to be doing that a lot, drifting into his distant thoughts. "Look."

Dean looked to where Sam was gazing, only to notice a huge crowd of people. Sure they were near the ocean, driving along the coast because well, Sam insisted on it. But there was a huge commotion going on outside for such a little town, there were even several police officers. One lady was escorted into the diner, and she was crying hysterically. Dean tuned into what she was saying, something about finding something on the beach as she was walking. He got up and made his way outside, leaving Sam alone with his empty plate and Sam's piece of toast still there.

What Dean saw made him want to gag. The first thing he was met with was the horrifying smell, and like that wasn't enough, there it was. A person's liver sitting right out on the beach, like it belonged there or something. Dean glanced around the crowd and police officers trying to understand where it came from. He got the gist of it from over hearing parts of conversations. "Oh that poor boy that disappeared!" and "it just washed up on shore, no right now!" Dean shrugged and then made his way back inside to finish off the little amount of coffee still left in his cup.

"What is it?" Sam asked still reading the newspaper like there was actually something interesting written in it.

"Oh, some one's liver just washed up on shore," Dean said as a matter of factly. "I guess some boy's been missing, and his liver just washed up."

"Dean," Dean shrugged like it would answer anything Sam had to say. "What kind of missing person's liver would just show up?"

"I don't know Sam," Dean sighed, he was really starting to get annoyed with Sam's let's-figure-everything-out attitude. "Maybe a shark attack or something, I mean we're at the ocean."

"Why would his liver still be in tact though?" Sam always questioned everything, and Dean rolled his eyes at that.

"I don't know Sam," Dean responded in a harsh tone. "Look it up or something."

Sam wanted to ask more questions, Dean could tell by the way he opened his mouth, pouted, and then closed it over and over. But he didn't, he just got up and left. And Dean rolled his eyes, not really caring to find out where Sam was going, but realized that eventually he'd have to, otherwise Dad would kill him.

"Where are you going?" Dean practically shouted across the diner.

"To look it up," Sam shot back, and then he was gone. And Dean shrugged, and then he picked up Sam's toast and engulfed it in one bite.

Sam had walked a little over a mile before he realized that the car was in fact trailing him. He cursed himself for not noticing earlier, and stopped walking, wishing he had brought his gun or at least a knife with him. The car slowed down and stopped right beside him, so Sam could see the driver was a male. The window rolled down and then the driver spoke.

"Hey man, you alright?" Sam rolled his eyes, what was up with these small towns and everyone thinking they knew everyone in it? "I saw you storm out of the diner, and you look kind of lost."

"Yeah actually," Sam decided to take advantage of the stupidity of this man. "Do you know where I could find a library?"

The man pointed in on direction and then took off, and Sam laughed. Obviously this man was worried enough to follow him, and then took off without offering a ride, oh how the world worked. It made Sam laugh even more.

Sam was still laughing when he reached the library, what for now he had no idea. He was just laughing because life in general was funny, and everything in between was funny too. It was better to laugh he figured, then to cry and throw things, and it had been a while since he laughed a real laugh. So he laughed, and then he quieted down and went in the library. He walked through the rows, trying to find a quiet place to sit and skim books. He found a computer sitting by itself and decided to sit there.

Sam sat there for a while browsing through disappearances near the ocean or near the diner. He looked through every one, noticing how the liver was always the thing that showed up. Sam wondered just how they could tell which liver belonged to who and what not, but dismissed it because he actually didn't feel like caring about anything right now. He searched the archives for the earliest find and found no sense of anything. The first disappearance was a boy named John, and Sam laughed out loud at that, nothing odd about him. Nothing wrong with dear old John, just disappeared by the ocean, and washed up few days later as only a liver. The next disappearance had been a year after that. Johnny boy had a good life, and Sam was forced to forget.

Sam leaned back in his chair, frustrated and tired of everything in general. He sighed one of those extremely dramatic and loud sighs, and then he noticed the man behind him staring at him. He started staring back, wondering if he should say something. He stood there for a moment, before he decided the man realized he was staring back.

"Not finding what you're looking for?" He asked politely. Fine, Sam could do polite, plus it didn't hurt to talk to someone else besides Dean every once in a while.

"No not really," Sam responded and sighed again.

"Are you from around here?" he asked and sat down in a chair two seats away from Sam. "I haven't seen you before."

"No, my brother and I are just in town." The guy looked around and Sam felt stupid for a second. This guy was looking for something, and he obviously didn't find it.

"Brother?" And then Sam laughed, because he got it.

"Yeah, he's back at that diner by all that commotion."

"So you guys were just passing through, and stopped for breakfast, and then you walked to the library?"

"Pretty much," and Sam kept laughing.

"You in school or something?" Sam turned his head at that question, how did he respond to that?

"Well I was," Sam hesitated.

"What school?"

"Stanford," the guy seemed a little taken back. "Oh wow."

"Yeah, but I'm not there anymore."

"Why's that?"

"My girlfriend died and now I'm on a road trip with my brother." It was blunt, but Sam was tired of lying to everyone but Dean. It didn't work anymore for him.

"Oh I'm sorry," and Sam laughed again.

"Don't be sorry, I'm pretty much over it now."

"Oh," the guy moved his head a little. "Oh I'm sorry I didn't mean to be rude, the names Jackson."

"Sam" and he held out his hand.

"So what are you looking into?"

"Just those livers that keep turning up," he said again with the blunt truth.

"Oh," Jackson looked around. "If you want to know my opinion…"

"Sure," Sam looked at him with interest.

"Well it's just; I don't think its sharks or anything like that. I think that would just be weird, I mean why would they leave the livers? I'm one of those guys that believes there's other things in this world than just us, and I think this is one of those things. I don't know what, but you know I've been looking into for a while because my sister was one of the people that disappeared. And the thing is, there was once a witness. A little boy named Mike, and I talked to him, and all he could tell me was that he was scared of horses. I wouldn't make anything of it really, but my sister really loved horses so it kind of struck me. I know I sound insane."

"Huh," was all Sam could say. "Want to help me out?"

"Sure," Jackson nodded. They sat in the library going through nothing, reliving each other's life stories for the most part. Sam skipped the details, and Jackson lived through his. But they got interrupted by the sound of Sam's cell phone. Sam glanced down to see it was Dean. He sighed and picked it up, announced that he should go back to diner, and Jackson offered to drive him.

It had been a good hour since Sam had last seen Dean, and when he came back to the dinner and walked through with Jackson, he wasn't surprised to see Dean sitting in exactly the same spot with two empty plates in front of him. Sam slid across from Dean, but this time all the way over and Jackson slid in next to him.

"Well hello there Sammy," Dean earned himself a glare. "So nice of you to show up, and who is your friend, may I ask?"

"Jackson, this is my brother Dean," Sam said more to Jackson than Dean.

"Hmm," Dean barely acknowledges him. "Alright Sammy, are you ready to go?"

"First of all," Sam started; Dean noticed that he's taken quite a liking to that glare. "It's Sam. And second of all, I'm going to stay here."

"Fine whatever," and Dean got up to leave. He placed a twenty on the table, looked at Jackson, and didn't dare look at Sam. And soon Sam found himself in the same place as Indiana, watching Dean drive off, except this time, in an old rusty pick up truck.

Dean made it about ten minutes before he gave up. He could no longer see Sam, and he had no intention of going back to Sam this time. If Dad asked where Sam was, Dean would shoot the same question back. And that was his solution. Dean was tired of Sam's whiney ways, and he decided from that moment on that Sam was an adult. Sam could take care of himself, and so he let him. But Dean gave up on a much bigger issue; finding a good radio station. He had finally decided that even though he hated it, and it should be illegal, he'd listen to the country music.

It was horrible Dean decided, as he hummed along to the music. He almost wanted to slap himself. And he had no second thoughts about leaving Sam behind. Dean heard the familiar ring of his phone and picked it up. After glancing at who was calling, and deciding that no Sam wasn't worth answering, he opened it and hung up- just so Sam would know he was ignoring him. But he didn't hate Sam, he loved Sam. He lived his whole life for Sam, and Sam's always it for him. But now, they needed to spilt, because too much pressure makes things burst, everyone knows that.

Sam was what most people called surprised when Dean hung up on him. He was astonished when Dean wouldn't even let him leave a message. And he knew why. He didn't mean to make Dean upset, and he didn't mean to drive Dean off. But desperate times call for desperate measures, and sometimes in the middle of it, you drive off the most important people.

"So I guess you guys don't really get along huh?" Jackson asked. Sam glanced over at him, remembering for the first time that he was still there. He thought about it for a second, the question Jackson was asking. It was funny to Sam that Jackson was still there, nice guy is what he is. Sam silently wishes Dean were more like him.

"Actually," Sam started and paused. He does the open mouth close mouth thing again before he decides what he actually wants to say. "He's not so bad."

Dean stopped the truck somewhere between Reedsport and Tillamook, but he wouldn't be able to tell you where. He had gotten a few more calls, one more from Sam, one from an old friend, and one from some number he didn't know. He hadn't picked up because none of them had been from the one person he wanted one from. All his life he waited for one person to call, just one person. And even though that's all he really asked for, one phone call from that one person, he knew he'd never get it. Never ever, but that doesn't mean you have to give up. Because sometimes having hope was enough, enough to remind you what it's worth.

But Dean waited and waited for that one phone call. And right now he needed it. He needed someone to tell him what was right, and what to do. He needed _her_ to call and say everything was going to be okay. He needed _her_ to say it, because then it'd be real. And then he wanted _her_ to tell him she still loved him. And he wanted to be reminded of what happened, and what he lost. Because when all is gone and over, only memories are left. And sometimes that's all you need, but even those he had been mostly deprived of. He needed Mom to call, because Mom's always knew what to do.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N** First I would like to start by saying thanks to all of the reviewers. Especially Zippdipp, and I apologize for not being such a great writer- but I warned you all my other fics, and I hope this read is a lot less painful that the first chapter. And of course, big thanks for StealerOfDreams and tsweeny! This chapter just outright sucks I think, but I seriously think that of all my writing. Feedback is always appreciated, reviews are loved. But in all honesty, criticism is _always_ loved. I don't really care how harsh it is, it just might make me not like you so much, but I'll still take your words to heart, haha. I'm not a big writer, but I want to write good; so you do what it takes, and I've still got to pay my dues ;D

Mom knew what to do to make everything right. Mom would know how to fix things, and she would do it right. Nothing would be fixed unless Mom came, and Dean was sure of it. Because that's what Mom was supposed to do, and that's all Dean ever remembered her doing. His eyes welled up in tears as he remembered Mom, and really wanted and needed her for the first time in a long time. He had gotten used to having Dad and Sammy, and while they had been enough he still would've loved to have Mom. But right now, Dad was gone, and Sam was mad. And Mom was the only one left, and she was the only one who would never be there.

_The sniffles coming from the closet were a dead give away. Mom was good at playing hide and seek, and she was even better at it when she knew something was wrong. So when little Dean had taken off at a full sprint, from outside through the kitchen and up the stairs, Mom knew something was wrong. Mom always knew the truth. _

_Mom opened the closet door and slowly closed it again, and Dean wondered if she had just left him there, or he really was good at hiding this time. _

"_Dean," her voice sounded like an angel Dean decided. "Can I sit with you?"_

"_With the lights off?" the little voice asked._

"_With the lights off," Mom said as a matter of factly. _

"_Okay," Dean decided. Mom shuffled around, trying to find her way in the little closet in the dark. Dean smirked because he could see everything, and Mom looked silly. She sat down next to Dean, and wrapped her arms around him; Dean snuggled against her, always loving the feeling of being in her arms. Mom always made everything okay._

"_What's wrong baby?" Mom asked after a minute._

"_Don't call me that," Dean announced._

"_Don't call you what?"_

"_Baby!" Dean lifted his head from where it was snuggled against Mom's chest and turned to look at her. "I'm not a baby! Sammy's the baby, Daddy even said so!"_

"_Oh okay I'm sorry," Mom said as she tried to contain her laugh. "Tell me what's wrong Dean."_

"_Daddy hates me," Dean buried his head back against Mom's chest._

"_Why would Daddy hate you?" Mom cocked her head to the side, trying to understand what had happened now. Last time Daddy hated him it had been because Dean decided to roll in the mud, then run through the house claiming he was the mud monster._

"_Because I hurt Sammy," Dean shook his head. "And Daddy loves Sammy more."_

"_Daddy doesn't love Sammy more," Mom tried not to laugh, but it was hard. "Why would Daddy love Sammy more?"_

"_Because he always plays with Sammy," Dean's eyes filled with more tears. "And Sammy's better than me."_

"_Dean darling," Mom pulled Dean tighter. "Daddy doesn't love Sammy more, Sammy's just a baby remember? Sammy doesn't know how to do anything, he needs help. So until he gets older, Daddy has to watch out for Sammy, and it takes up a lot of time, it doesn't mean Daddy loves him more. Daddy loves you both."_

"_But Daddy yelled at me!" Dean was screaming and crying._

"_Why would Daddy yell at you?" Mom asked, starting to rock Dean back and forth in her arms._

"_Because," Dean started as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "I was trying to push Sammy on the swing!"_

"_Oh Dean," Mom actually laughed this time. She kissed the top of Dean's head, and then went on. "Sammy can't sit on the swing yet, he's not big enough! He'll hurt himself if he does. Daddy doesn't hate you, he just doesn't want Sammy to get hurt."_

"_But I've been waiting," Dean stretched out each word to make it more dramatic. "And he's not getting any bigger!"_

"_It'll take a little while," Mom said, now stroking Dean's long hair. She mentally made a note that Dean needed a haircut soon. "One day Sammy will be big enough to play with you. And one day he'll be so big, that he'll get mad at you for calling him Sammy."_

"_What would I call him instead?" Dean asked, always amazed how Mom knew everything. _

"_Sam," Mom insisted. "He'll make you call him Sam, and he might even get bigger than you."_

"_Pshhh," Dean said as he spit while doing so. "Sam will NEVER be bigger than ME."_

_And Mom laughed, and Dean laughed too. He didn't know why he was laughing, but Mom was laughing so he must've done something right. Mom was happy, and that was enough. Because Mom always knew how to make Dean feel better. She always kissed his ouchies, and used that magic kiss to make everything better. Mom was like magic, and Dean always looked at her with big bright eyes, because magic was a wonderful thing._

_That's how Daddy found them, still in the closet in the dark, laughing while Mom started tickling Dean. But Daddy turned the light on, he always did. Dean loved Daddy, but Daddy got mad a lot. Mom said it was because he loved Dean, but Dean didn't understand it. Mom always said that he would when he was older, and Dean would respond by saying that he couldn't wait to be older, because everything sounded so much better. Mom told him that some things were better, but sometimes being little was fun too. And then Dean would laugh because he thought it was one of those grown up jokes that Mom and Daddy told and Dean was too 'immature' whatever that meant, to understand it. _

"_Why are you guys in the closet?" Daddy asked._

"_Because you hate Dean," Mom said as she chuckled to herself. Dean was sure Daddy gave Mommy one of those mean looks, but Dean wasn't sure because it was hard to be mad at Mommy._

"_I don't hate Dean," and Dean wished they would talk to him like he was there. They always did this, talked about Dean like he was somewhere else. "Dean do you think I hate you?"_

"_No," Dean said wearily. Sometimes Daddy scared Dean, but Dean still loved Daddy because Daddy was fun. Now the whole family was in the little closet, and Dean giggled._

"_What's so funny?" Daddy asked both him and Mommy turning to face Dean._

"_Do you think Sammy likes the closet?" Dean asked as he squirmed his way around so his head was still against Mommy's chest, but his feet were tangled with Daddy's big ones._

"_I'm sure he does," Daddy said as he rocked Sammy in his arms. _

"_I like it in here," Dean stated. "Mommy always finds me in here. Mommy's good at finding me."_

"_Yup," Mommy confirmed. Whenever something was wrong, Dean always hid in one of two places; either the hall closet or his own closet. _

"_Can I hold Sammy?" Dean asked, and then added before anyone had a chance to say anything. "I promise I won't hurt him, I won't ever hurt him."_

"_I know you won't," Mom said quietly as Daddy handed Sammy to Dean and the four sat in that little closet in the hall. _

Dean stopped the car somewhere along the way; he had pulled into one of the many vista points. He was now sitting on the hood of the car, looking out at the view, but not really seeing it. He was thinking of that day, when Mom found him in the closet and the four of them had sat there. Dean remembered how they had decided to stay there, all the way up until bed time. Mom had even gone out to bring dinner and snacks into the closet. And Dean remembered how he held Sammy the entire time, refusing to let go. He remembered how silly he thought it was, all four of them sitting in there, but he loved it. He remembered how Mom said it was like a picnic, and it was the only one they had ever gone on. Mom had promised they'd go on more picnics, and maybe a real one outside somewhere, but they never did. They never got the chance, so that had been the only picnic Dean had ever been on. And that's when he turned the car around and headed back to Reedsport, but it wasn't for Dad or Sam, it was for Mom.

Sam was tired now, he had been reading stacks and stacks of articles, and silently cursed himself for not taking Dad's journal. It might've helped, maybe Dad knew something. Sam went back to the computer, and opened up Google. He started to type something into the search bar, when he heard the voice.

"Sam," coming from a few book cases down was Jackson. "Did you find anything?"

"Nope," Sam sighed. He had almost hoped it was Dean, but it wasn't. It was Jackson, and at least he didn't call him Sammy. "How about you?"

"Yeah, I didn't have much luck either," Jackson said as he pulled a chair closer and sat down. Sam closed the search window and leaned back in his chair. "I was thinking, it's getting kind of late, want to grab some grub?"

"Sure," Sam answered as he paused for a minute. Again for a second he thought it was Dean, Dean had in fact asked Sam if he wanted to "stop for some grub" earlier. The two boys made their way out of the library and into Jackson's car. It was starting to rain, and Sam thought about the irony of that; it always seemed to rain when the worst was happening. Sam sat in the passenger seat of Jackson's car, wishing it were the Impala, because even though he'd never admit it, he loved that car. They pulled into the same diner as Dean had earlier and made their way in.

Jackson didn't bother Sam about what he ordered or how much he ate. Jackson didn't bother Sam about the way he skimmed the newspaper, even if it were the same one as before. And Jackson didn't care when Sam asked him questions.

"So you had a sister," Sam asked as he toyed with his food. He ran the fork through the food a couple of times before looking up at Jackson for his answer.

"Yeah," Jackson leaned back and ran a hand through his short, jet black hair. "She was a couple years younger than me. We weren't amazingly close or anything, but she was visiting me. We grew up here, you know fishing and stuff, but my parents died a few years back. I also have another brother, but he and I barely speak. Anyways, my sister was married, and she was coming out to visit me. She was such an amazing person, truly cared for everyone and everything, and I guess she felt bad for me. I've always been a little alone, kind of the black sheep of the family. I didn't really get along with what they all wanted to do and stuff. What about you, Dean your only brother?"

"Yup," Sam responded as he went back to toying with his food. "Dean's older, and he's the only one I have. My dad, he likes hunting, always somewhere and we don't know where. My mom died when I was six months old."

"Oh," Jackson replied, looking around the room like he was going to expose some big secret. "I'm sorry, must feel like death kind of follows you around."

"Yeah actually," Sam looked up at that. This guy was hitting close to home a lot. "It does feel a lot like that. And you know me and Dad don't really get along. Dean says it's because we're so much like each other, but I don't know. Dean and Dad get along really well, I guess I don't really fit well either."

"But your dad's gone right?"

"Well, I left for college and it was just him and Dean. But Dean came to get me because Dad disappeared."

"Oh," Jackson looked like he felt genuinely sorry for Sam. "Did you guys find him?"

"Yeah," Sam answered as he laughed. "I guess Dad likes hide and seek though, because he took off again."

"And you and Dean," Jackson started. "You guys stay together mostly?"

"Pretty much," Sam responded as he set his fork down. "Dean's a good guy really. We're just brothers, and brothers fight. We moved around a lot when we were younger, so Dean was really my only friend. And after Mom died, Dean got kind of crazy on losing people. Now that we're older, I guess we just get sick of each other more."

Jackson didn't say anything, and neither did Sam. They both sat there for a little while before the door burst open and in came Dean. Sam was relieved to see Dean had come back for him, because he had for a minute there thought he wouldn't. But he wasn't going to show it, because he couldn't show Dean that he needed him.

"Sammy," Dean said as he stood at the foot of the table.

"Dean," Sam replied not looking up at Dean though. He didn't correct Dean's nickname, and Dean took note of it. But he wasn't going to try it again. Dean sighed and started to walk away. "Wait, Dean."

Dean stopped in his tracks but didn't turn around. He knew Sam would call him back, even if he didn't want him. He knew Sam would do it, because Sam always did it. Neither said anything for a minute, and Dean knew that Sam didn't want him to leave, but Dean also knew how hard it was for Sam to say those two words. So he turned around, and pulled up a chair. He grabbed the newspaper by Sam's hand and pretended to read it.

"So," Dean started, still reading the boring news of the world today. Dean almost wanted to become a reporter because then maybe he could write about the real problems the world had. He raised one eyebrow as he asked. "Find anything yet?"

"Actually," Sam hesitated; he hated it when he was wrong. "No. Just a string of deaths."

"Oh?" Dean asked in a voice that would normally sound innocent, but Sam knew better. Sam knew what it masked.

"Yes, Dean," Sam sighed again, he had been doing that a lot lately. "Oh."

Dean grinned and looked away. He went back to the newspaper and traced his fingers along the words he didn't want to read. All of a sudden, he slapped the paper down with such force that both Jackson and Sam turned.

"Fuck it," Dean turned and actually made eye contact with Sam for the first time in a long time. "I can't believe you read this damn thing like six times and didn't catch it."

"What is it?" Sam looked at Jackson and then back at Dean. Had Dean caught something important that Sam had missed? Sam sighed again because he couldn't take being wrong again. It was starting to be a blow to his ego. Dean rolled his eyes at the question, he felt like his eyes were getting a work out these days.

"Cowboys lost damnit," he gave Sam that knowing look; the one that said how could you be so stupid. When Sam failed to answer, Dean didn't acknowledge it. "Alright, let's blow this place and find some crap motel to stay tonight. How about it?"

Sam's only response was to get up and lead the way outside.

"Hey Jackson," Sam said when he made it all the way outside. He turned out to face Jackson, who was following close behind. "Any cheap motels around here?"

Dean wrapped his fingers around in the bed sheet. He twirled it around his pointer figure a few times, and grabbed tight with his hand. The he let go of it with a sigh, and started over again. It was dark in the room, but he didn't need the lights on to know Sam wasn't asleep. Dean ran his fingers along the seam and waited; he waited for Sam to break the silence. But he knew it wasn't going to happen. He felt a little foolish about before, what had they been arguing about? He wasn't sure anymore. Sam was upset all the time now, Dad leaving, the demon getting away, and all the stress of reliving Jessica's death. Neither one really had a reason to be mad at each other, but Dean guessed that it was just easier.

"Sam?" Dean whispered as he rolled over on his back.

"Yeah Dean?"

"I just-" Dean started and stopped.

"Yeah, I know; me too." Sam was amazed at how they could always read between the lines. It wasn't like they had to say anything, they just knew what each other wanted to say. When he was little, Sam thought it just came with being brothers. But what Dean and Sam had was different, and Sam had learned that when we went to college. There were probably a million reasons why Sam didn't tell anyone about his family while at Stanford. Sometimes he convinced himself it was because they were so messed up, or it was hard to believe. Sometimes he didn't because he couldn't come up with good enough lies. But most of the time, he just didn't want to because it hurt so much; he missed them, and it was easier not to miss someone when he didn't have to think about them so much.

Part of Sam had been relieved when Dean came to get him from Stanford; Dean always came back for Sam and he knew it. But that time, Sam thought it was different, he didn't think Dean would come. So when Dean had finally shown up, in Dean fashion of course, Sam had been able to breathe again. It was a little unfortunate though, the timing and everything. And Sam wished they'd made everything work without having to lose Jess.

_She steps carefully, and he follows behind. He jumps from step to step, because he's not big enough to just step across the stepping stones like she can. Together they count each one, talking in unison and laughing. They aren't laughing because one told a funny joke, they're laughing because they're having that much fun. They reach the end of the stepping stones and she takes off. She runs with big strides, she hardly has to use any speed. And he runs in little steps because he can't make them bigger, but he runs with speed. His little heart races as he chases her around the backyard, gripping at the bottom of her skirt trying to keep up. She reaches around and grabs his hand, and together they run in circles, still laughing. She picks him up and twirls him around, and he laughs his little laugh. She falls on the ground in one big heap, he's still in her arms. And she pushes on his nose and praises him for his running. His little face is bright red, and his green eyes are brimming with adventure. She takes him in her arms again and hugs him tightly._

_"Mommy," Dean starts in between giggles. "Why's the sky blue?"_

_"Well Dean," she places him on her lap so he faces her. "You'll have to ask Daddy."_

_Dean looks up at his Mom, and she winks at him. They share a quiet moment before it's broken._

_"What's this I hear about Daddy?" Dean giggles as he hears Daddy swing open the backdoor and step out. Dean worms his way out of Mommy's arms, and let out a loud squeal as Daddy lifts him off the ground and swing him in a circle. _

_"John, where's Sammy?"_

_"He just woke up," Daddy sets Dean down for a minute and turns to Mommy. "He's in the crib in the kitchen. He's calling for you."_

_"Oh, I'm sure," Mommy says as she turns and makes her way inside. Daddy picks Dean up again and the laughing starts all over again. They can hear Mommy singing a song to Sammy, and Dean remembers that she used to sing it to him. "John, can you come here a moment?"_

_"Alright," Daddy sets Dean down again and turns to him before making his way inside. "I'll be right back sport, you hang on one second."_

_Dean nods and then runs to the little sandbox Daddy made for him in the garage. He jumps in the sand and picks up his bulldozer to start plowing the sand. And that's when he hears Mommy scream. He's scared because Mommy never screams like that. And then he hears Daddy yell, and Sammy cry. And he looks up just in time to see the whole house burst in flames. _

"No!" Dean screamed as he sat up in the motel bed fast. He wiped his forehead as he hears the click of the bedside lamp, and sees the light go on.

"Dean?" his voice is tired and drowned out, but it's there. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," Dean looks over at Sam and nods. "Yeah Sam, I'm fine."

**A/N** I changed my mind on where this was going, so stick with it. I'm going to add some action in here soon ;D


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N** First off, I am in awe of all the people who can update their stories more than once a week. It's not easy; it takes a lot of time just to write one chapter. So forgive me for the wait, but I'm trying here. It might be a while until the next since I leave for a week in two days, I hope that's alright.

It was light when he woke up. He could feel the sun beating down on his back through the window. He vaguely wondered if they had left the curtain open, but he was pretty sure otherwise. He listened for a quick second, just to check out what was going on. There was something missing, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it yet. He cracked one eye open and glanced to the bed beside his; that's when he noticed Sam wasn't in it. He sat up and glanced at the bathroom door, noticing that it was ajar.

Dean looked around for a minute, taking in the room, and that Sam wasn't in it. He glanced at the floor and pulled on jeans he had discarded there last night. He made his way across the room to where his bag sat, and quickly went through it to find a shirt. As he pulled it over his head, he heard the door open.

"Morning Princess," Sam smirked as the door slammed behind him.

"Fuck you," Dean said as he shuffled through more of his stuff.

"Still not a morning person," Sam said as he walked across the room and set the bags in his hand on the table.

"What's this?" Dean asked as he briefly looked at the bags and then went back to his search.

"Food," Sam replied as he began taking things out of the bags. He picked up too cups and handed on to Dean. "Here, coffee."

"Mmm thanks." Dean grabbed the coffee and took a swig of it. "So what's our plan?"

"Well I figured we should start out with research. I've already tried the library and came up with nothing. It just means that we have to narrow our search a little more before we go back there."

Both boys were busily away at their tasks; Sam was searching the internet for anything he could find, and Dean was ridding the bags of their contents. When Sam got frustrated because he couldn't find anything, he handed the computer over to Dean and set about finding something to eat that Dean hadn't already consumed. Dean smirked at the thought that Sam couldn't find anything, and started his routine of tapping to try and move them along.

"Hey Sam," Sam glanced at Dean, but he hadn't taken his eyes off the screen. "Check this out."

Sam covered the space between him and Dean quickly and settled on the floor next to Dean.

"The Each Uisge is the fiercest and most dangerous of the Scottish water spirits," Dean started reading off the screen. "While the Kelpie, yeah whatever that is, lived in running water, the Each Uisge lived in the sea, sea lochs and fresh-water lochs. In Ireland its equivalent was called the Aughisky. The Each Uisge would take the shape of a fine horse or pony and stand near the water's edge. If anyone tried to ride it, it would immediately plunge into the deepest part of the loch. The water horse's coat is adhesive so that the rider cannot get off. Once it has drowned its catch the water horse devours the body, eating everything except the liver, which eventually washes up on the shore - so that everyone will know the monster has claimed another victim. How's that for you?"

"Alright so," Sam said as he got up and started pacing. "Does it say how to kill these things?"

"One second," Dean replied as he went back to searching. He came up with an answer quick. "They can be lured from the water with the smell of roasted meat and then killed."

Dean was greeted with silence. Sam was still pacing, running a hand through his hair, and mumbling words Dean couldn't hear.

"Uhh Sammy, did you catch any of that?"

"Yeah, yeah I got you Dean," Sam had stopped pacing now. He turned to face Dean. "You know, Jackson told me there was a witness. How about we go talk to him?"

It was simple for Sam to find the boy there were looking for. One quick call to Jackson, and a car ride later left them parked outside a small blue house. The house had white shutters, and a dirt path leading up to the steps. It was simple, a porch and a swinging screen door for an entrance. Sam knocked a few times on the wood while Dean still made his way up next to him. It was a few silent moments before the door squeaked open and a boy answered the door.

"May I help you?" his voice was young, and shaky.

"Hi I'm Sam and this is Dean," Sam answered quickly. "We're reporters and we were wondering if we could just speak with you for a moment."

The boy eyed them for a moment and then opened the door letting them in. He led them down a small hallway to a living room. The inside of the house was bright, and Dean noted the pictures all through out the house- they were everywhere. Once they reached the small living room, the boy sat in a chair across from a couch, where Dean and Sam sat.

"Mike," the boy introduced. Dean noted that the boy seemed to be about fourteen years old. "What can I help you with?"

"Are your parents home Mike?" Dean asked.

"Nope, they're both at work."

"And there's no school?"

"We have a few days off for Thanksgiving."

"Well, Mike we wanted to ask you about what you saw happen at the beach," Sam said carefully. Mike nodded and lowered his head. "You were with someone, correct?"

He nodded again.

"Did you know that person?"

"Yeah, he was a friend of mine."

"Can you tell us what happened?"

"Well, we were headed to the beach because that's where we all meet. You know me and my friends. And I was with Lance, and we were waiting for everyone cause we were early. There was this thing down the beach, and we sort of ignored it. Well I guess it started coming towards us or something. And Lance was all like 'let's check it out.' So we did, and it turned out to be this horse, right. Lance is almost deathly afraid of horses, and so it was really weird, cause he just walked up to it. I guess the rest of it was a little hazy, because I remember it walking off with _him_, and I was so confused that I just sat there."

"Did you see where it went?" Dean pried.

"Um, no I just stood there calling for Lance. It just disappeared."

"Did you see where it came from?"

"I told you, it was just _there_."

"Well, thanks for your time Mike." Both boys started to get up before Mike stopped them.

"Wait, there's one more thing." Sam looked from Mike to Dean, and sat back down.

"What is it?"

"I told my mom this, and she just told me not to tell anyone because I was imagining it. But I remember hearing this voice. I couldn't make out what it said, but it was talking a lot. It sounded like it was almost having a conversation with someone, in soft whispers or something."

Sam and Dean thanked Mike again before they left. They headed out the door and down the short dirt path. Sam started walking a little faster once he heard the screen door slam shut, and turned around to face Dean, cutting him off in the process.

"Dean," Sam started as he shook his head. "It just doesn't make any sense. Nothing is making sense. I've never even heard of these things, and plus some of the victims just don't seem like the type to fall for this kind of thing."

"I don't know what to tell you Sam. Some things just turn out difference then you think they should. It's just a matter of perspective, and honestly, I don't think we know any of these people enough to say what they would and wouldn't do."

"But Dean, he was 'deathly afraid' of horses. That doesn't make sense. And what about the fact that these things are either Irish or Scottish, I mean there'd have to be some connection, right?"

"I guess so. We're just going to have to dig some more, and see if we can find any."

"He said he heard soft whispers Dean. We didn't see anything about that. We don't know anything about this thing."

"Yeah well, I don't know what to say. We're just going to have to keep digging and see what we find."

Sam had heard people say dogs have a good intuition; if the dog doesn't like the person, run the other way. But Sam also knew some people had it too; some people just knew who to trust and who was trouble. He knew that some people always felt uneasy, and some people just accepted everything. But there were few who could tell, and Sam knew that Dean was easily one of those people. Sam had his 'feelings' about whether evil was there or not, but Dean just knew.

So when Dean didn't like someone, Sam usually trusted him. But the key was usually, sometimes Dean could just be an ass, and no one knew that better than Sam. But right now Sam couldn't tell if Dean was just being an ass, or if he really knew. Dean cut him from his thoughts momentarily.

"Alright, this is what we need to do," Dean took the lead. "We need to talk to some locals, see what they have to say. See if we can connect it to any of the stuff we found earlier. And we need to go back to the library and look for Irish or Scottish connections."

"Okay, I'll call Jackson and talk to him."

"No," Dean said a bit abruptly. "We need to talk to other people. I'll drop you off at the library, and I'll go talk to some friendly neighbors."

"Dean he could help you."

"I haven't ever needed his help, and I don't need it know."

Dean pulled up in front of the library and shooed Sam out the door. He briefly mentioned what time he'd be back, and then took off to find some gossipy ladies. It was a Sunday, and Dean found his perfect opportunity quick. He pulled into the parking lot of the church, guessing that the service would be close to finished. He made his way inside and quietly sat in the back. It finished in ten minutes, and people were up and about in the lobby area. Dean made his way through the crowd, looking for the right people. He saw a group of older ladies chatting away, and decided to make his move.

"Why hello there ladies," Dean said as he put on his best smile and his charm. All eyes turned to him, scanning him up and down.

**A/N** I hate this. It always happens. I'm always typing a long being all good and fine with this chapter, and then I get a brilliant idea for later. And I have to go type chapter four halfway through chapter three. God it gives me a headache just how much I change these stories as I go. I really need a solid plan. This was shorter, sorry. Big thanks to StealerofDreams, and of course irismay42 for always reviewing! Btw, I type faster if I'm told to… haha, just kidding- kind of.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N **So sorry for the wait! Please forgive me, and here is the worst chapter I've ever written in my life. I'm so sorry, but I'm really in a rut. I do hope you forgive me for the shortness, and the long wait! Btw, In My Time Of Dying was amazing!

Dean leaned against the hot black metal on the passenger side of his car. After a good amount of suffering, Dean had pulled himself away from the group of older ladies and made his way to the library to pick up Sam. Nothing useful had come out of talking to the ladies, except for the "Tom and Linda say they are Scottish, but I really think they're Russian." "No, Peter and Nicolette are Scottish." "No only Peter is! Nicolette is German." Nothing had come out that could really help Dean to any point, so he slowly excused himself from the conversation. He had called Sam on his way over, and told Sam to be outside ready. But Dean stood waiting a good twenty minutes before Sam emerged from the building.

"Yo, what took you so long?" Dean asked as he moved back across to the other side of the car. He slipped into the car, and allowed Sam to before he continued. "I've been waiting for like ever."

"Sorry," Sam squirmed a little. "Didn't think you would be so quick."

"Yeah well," Dean shot back. "There really isn't much to find out about."

"Nothing really?" Sam barely whispered.

"Yeah, any luck with you?"

"Actually yeah,"

"Anything you want to share?"

"Yeah, let's get back to the motel first though."

"Why? Might someone hear it who isn't supposed too?" Dean mocked.

"Something like that," Sam returned with a grin.

_He walks along the edge. He doesn't know what's on the other side, but he doesn't feel like looking. For right now, he knows he's hunting. He's got a .45 in his hand loaded with silver bullets, and he's making no noise as he moves. He doesn't know how he knows which way to go, but he trusts himself. He doesn't want to look for Dean, because he doesn't want to trip, but he surmises Dean must be somewhere. He hears the thuds of the feet, and moves faster. It's almost as if he's watching himself. _

_There's a tree, he rounds the corner and sneaks behind the tree and stops. He shuffles behind the tree and listens carefully. He hears the steps of something again, and he turns to face the direction it's coming from. He follows the sounds with the tip of his gun, never moving into the open, but always on top of his surroundings. He feels his phone vibrate in his pocket, and with his left hand quietly pulls it out. He glances down at the screen, still careful to hear the movements of the feet ahead of him, and notices Dean's calling. Slowly he brings the phone to his ear and doesn't say anything._

_"I found him," Dean's voice is urgent, and slightly panicked. "But I don't know what to do until you get that thing. Can you hurry it up a little? Call me back when you're good."_

_He hears Dean click the phone shut, and slips the phone back in his pocket. He shuffles around the big tree a little since the thing seems to be coming his way. The thing starts moving faster and Sam has to emerge from the tree to follow it. He ducks behind smaller trees, cars, anything he can to stay hidden. He can't make out what it is, but since it's not straying to far from the water he's got a pretty good guess. He slips the gun in the back of his jeans and emerges from behind. _

_"Hey," Sam whispers. He doesn't want to scare it or anger it. The Each Uisge turns and looks at him, slowly eyes him, and then turns around so he's facing Sam. Both stand completely still, staring each other down, and waiting for the other to make a move. Neither one moves for a while, finally he Uisge turns around and starts running the other direction. At first Sam is confused; he doesn't understand what it's doing. Why's it running? That's not of its nature. Sam steps forward slowly making his way towards the direction it disappeared. He's still trying to figure out what just happened when he feels his phone vibrate again. He lifts it to his ear and turns around. _

_"Yeah?" He talks first this time._

_"Did you get it?"_

_"No, not yet."_

_"Hurry up man."_

_"Give me ten." _

_"Okay but-" The loud thundering of feet right behind him causes him to jerk around and drop the phone. He sets his right hand on his gun, ready to pull it out, and looks to see nothing. Carefully scanning the area, he doesn't find anything. He turns to pick up the discarded phone- but it's torn to pieces. Slightly confused, Sam scans the area again, thinking he missed something. That's when he hears the feet again, and he turns in slow circles but he doesn't see it. He can't see the figure coming at him, and he totally misses when it's two steps away. Facing the wrong direction, the feet come bolting at him. Sam barely registers its behind him before he loses all thought and welcomes black._


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N** To be honest with you, I wrote this right after I posted the fourth chapter. I have no idea why I haven't posted it yet. But seriously, it's going to be my goal to finish this before break is over. I just got done yesterday…. So we'll see. Anyways, hope you guys like it and sorry for the long wait.

Sam woke up with a gasp. He surveyed the room, welcoming the sight of the motel room, but not quite remembering how he had gotten there. Last thing he had remembered was getting in the impala with Dean. He vaguely remembered Dean talking about how much he hated this town, and they better finish this job and get on to the next one soon.

"Nice to see you're finally awake," Sam heard from somewhere. He couldn't see where, but he knew the voice. Sitting up, Sam rubbed his eyes and didn't answer. "You fell asleep in the car, must've been tired I suppose."

"Dean?" Sam tried. His throat was scratchy, and the pounding headache wasn't helping. "Water."

"Here," Sam heard the water bottle hit the bed in front of him, and reached for it. "Want to tell me what you found out now?"

"Huh?" Sam chugged the water, the crisp feeling on his throat is the best he's felt in a while.

"In the library, what'd you find out?"

"Oh," Sam racked his brain, trying to remember what it was. He reaches for his backpack, and opens a small notebook. Skimming his messy hand writing, he finds what he's looking for. "So, first of all guns won't work. We have to kill it a certain way."

"And that is…" the light in the room turns on, and Sam sees Dean by the door.

"Behead it- simple, but messy. Oh and also, in Scotland, these things are different. Generally, there're out near the country side- not near a town or city. They're unheard of here, so obviously something brought it here."

"Or someone," Dean countered.

"Huh?"

"Someone could've brought it here," Dean explained. "You know like in Indiana, they imported the tree. We could be dealing with the same type of thing."

"Why do you say that?"

"Linda owns a ranch- sea ranch- behind the town. She moved here last year."

"Who the fuck is Linda?" Sam asked rubbing his temples trying to tempt his headache away. The images of his dream still fresh in his mind.

"I was talking with these chatty old ladies who told me about her. Apparently she moved in here last year- bought a huge chunk of property just outside the town. She comes into town about once a month to pick up food or something. No one really knows her, and she lives alone. They didn't know where she moved from, but I'm guessing it wasn't from a neighboring town."

"And she calls it Sea Ranch?" Sam asked tiredly.

"No, it's by the sea."

"So what, you think she's controlling this thing?"

"No, but she might know who is."

"You want to go right now?" Sam looked at his watch, hoping Dean would say no.

"Nah, we'll drive by first thing tomorrow. What were you dreaming about anyways?"

"Huh?"

"You know, whatever made you wake up screaming like a girl."

"I wasn't screaming."

"Sure, what was it?"

"I don't know."

"Vision?" Dean pressed, worry sketched on his face.

"I don't think so," Sam pressed his temples again. "I guess it was kind of like a vision. It wasn't really a dream, it felt too real. But I think it was too clear to be a vision."

"Whaa?"

"Well usually the visions come in pieces, it's not like I just know. I have to figure it out. But this time, it was so clear."

"Huh, that's weird." Dean ran his fingers through his hair, he was still unsure about all this vision stuff.

"Man I didn't think I was this tired."

"Yeah, you kind of crashed, it was weird." Dean smirked. "You haven't done that since you were like thirteen."

"Haha, funny. But seriously, I don't even remember being tired."

"What happened at the library?"

"I ran into Jackson," Sam recalled. "That's all I really remember."

Both went silent for a while. Dean was pretending to read some papers, and Sam was playing with the sheet on the bed. After a while, Dean got up to open the window. He redrew the salt lines around the room- just to be safe- and resumed reading who knows what.

"Do you think Dad's coming back?" Sam's questioned startled Dean.

"Course he is Sam," Dean replied not putting his papers down.

"But Dean, why would he just leave like that? Before he even knew if we were okay! And he took the colt; you think he'll use it without us?"

"I don't know Sam. I'm sure he knows we're fine. He wouldn't just leave without knowing. He does care you know."

"But not enough to talk to us-"

"Sam stop it." Dean dropped the papers and rubbed his eyes. "Dad cares okay?"

"I know, it's just," Sam sighed. "I wished he stayed. We could be doing more important stuff right now."

"We're doing important stuff Sam. We're saving lives okay? It's important."

"I know…"

"Good." Both were silent again for a few minutes.

"Hey Dean?"

"Yeah?"

"I really don't feel-" Sam ran to the bathroom and threw up his lunch. "Good."

"Water?"

"Yes." Sam whispered.

"Here." Dean came up to the bathroom door and tossed a water bottle in. Sam chugged a little, and almost threw up again.

"This isn't water."

"It's what you brought with you from the library."

"Dean," Sam threw the bottle back out. "It's. Not. Water."

Dean opened the bottle and took a cautious sip. He almost gagged at the taste of the liquid.

"Yeah," Dean wiped at his mouth with his sleeve. "Definitely not water."


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N** I'm not going to make any promises this time… but here's the next chapter. It's not beta-ed sorry.

"Alright so," Dean said from behind the wheel again. "We're going to check out this Linda person, and then we can pick up from there."

"Okay," Sam responded from his place in the passenger seat.

"But listen, there's no accepting water from strange people this time. Okay Sam? I thought I taught you that one when you were little."

"Shut up, I didn't take anything from anyone."

"Uh huh, sure."

The next few miles were driven in silence; the radio hadn't been turned on, and neither Winchester seemed interested in doing so. Sam sat looking out the window, while Dean tapped the tune of some song on the wheel. It wasn't long until they reached the ranch; Dean pulled up along side of the house. He grabbed two guns, one he slid into the back of his jeans, and the other he handed to Sam. Finally ready, both made their way up to the front door and knocked.

"Just a minute please!" And old voice answered from inside. After two minutes the door finally swung open to reveal a slightly older lady. She was probably in her early forties, but still had a stunning appearance. "Hello, how can I help you?"

"Ms. Linda Jordan?" Dean asked.

"Yes, that's me."

"Hi, my name is Detective Ted Pearson and this is my partner Detective John Philips," Dean stuck his hand out to shake. "We'd like to ask you a few questions about the recent deaths that have taken place."

"Oh sure, come in," She led them down the hall and into a cozy living room. The flower print couches and wall paper almost had Dean gagging, but he had a cover to keep. "I don't know much about it all, but I can try to help. I'm afraid I didn't know any of the people. It's such a shame, isn't it?"

"It really is," Sam piped in. "We've decided to reach out and ask the towns people what they know. We're hoping to get a fresh look on the situation, and see what else we can find out."

"Oh yes, I understand," She smiled at them. "Can I get you anything to drink? Tea? Coffee?"

"Oh no, we're fine thank you," Sam replied.

"So, Ms. Jordan," Dean started. "What do you know about the incidents?"

"Oh not much really, like I said."

"Ms. Jordan, you know a lot about horses correct?"

"Yes, I do. I breed them here."

"Have you ever seen a horse attack a person before?"

Ms. Jordan looked up sharply. A ghost of something flew across her face, but before Sam could pinpoint it, it was gone.

"Um, not really; horses are really sweet animals. The only reason they'd ever hurt a person is if they felt they themselves were in danger- just like any another animal. What's this got to do with the deaths?"

"I'm sorry we can't give you that information, it's confidential until we have this case figured out," Dean quickly covered up. "Ms. Jordan, have you ever heard of an Each Uisge?"

"Oh yes, my grandmother used to tell me stories all the time. I grew up in Scotland and they were very big over there. Almost like your typical ghost story."

"Can you tell us what you know about them?" Sam asked. "We're just wondering, someone we've interviewed brought it up and it sounded intriguing. They said you might know more about it," he quickly said to cover up his interest.

"Certainly," Ms. Jordan's face lit up, as if she were excited to be telling her story. "The legends say that they live around waters and they lure people to them, and after the people touch them they can't let go because of the fur of the animal. The animal then drags them into the water and eats the entire body except for the liver. The story my grandmother told me was quite different. There was always the animal with the fur, that was the same, but instead there were voices as well. Anyways, the voices would draw anyone to them, the animal would appear however the person wanted them to see it, except it was actually the horse. Between the voices and the appearance the person would walk up, and the animal would then drag the person away- but not into the water. This time they would drag it down the beach, and then it would eat the person except for it's liver. They're almost the same story."

"And how did one kill this?" Dean asked. Sam spared him a glance, trying to convey that he was getting too pushy.

"Well in the normal legend with a piece of meat and cut the head off. But my grandmother said that they were connected to an actual live horse. The actual living horse needed to be killed and then the spirit would be killed as well."

"Ms. Jordan, do you have any horses that came over from Scotland with you?"

"I did, one of my mares. She's quite old actually, I don't know how she's still healthy!"

"Can we meet her?" Dean asked. "My partner here really has a thing for the Scottish horses."

"Oh no, I'm sorry. I've just recently sold her. This young boy was very interested in her and offered a price I couldn't resist. It's hard these days, without children, you don't know who's going to look after you when you get too old. But this young lad has helped me on the ranch for so long."

"What's his name?"

"Oh, Jackson Weatherly, he's quite the young lad."

"Look at the time," Dean said quickly as he stood up. "It was wonderful talking with you, but we've got a few more interviews to take care of."

"Thank you so much for your time," Sam added in as they made their way back to the door.

"Oh I'm sorry I couldn't be of more help," Ms. Jordan stood at the door and watched as the two boys climbed back into the car. She watched as Dean put the car in reverse, and she stood watching until the car disappeared from sight.


End file.
